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Tara’s legs trembled as Jenny’s words brought her back to that moment she’d opened the door to her apartment and her father had stood there like nothing had happened and he just came over for a visit.
Tara and her mother had left him to die in the kitchen in their apartment in Detroit two years prior. Even though they had been on the run ever since, Tara still held on to the irrational hope that he’d forgotten about them—or at least had moved on with his life.
The fact that he had been able to sneak up on her, showing up on her doorstep ready to take vengeance like a hunter stalked his prey, had been motivation enough throughout the years to keep moving from state to state with Frankie.
“I never thanked you for saving my life that night…” Tara brought a trembling hand over her mouth, willing to push back the sob that threatened to escape her lips.
Jenny pulled Tara in her arms and kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let it all out…”
Jenny rubbed Tara’s back as she cried her heart out. Tara hiccupped and said, “I-I’m sorry…”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s all your father’s doing. I heard him that night… He told you he was going to tie you up to a chair before ramming a frying pan against your head.”
Chills ran up Tara’s spine as she remembered witnessing her mother doing the exact thing to her father in Detroit the night he came out of prison and showed up on their doorstep.
He had been drinking all day and by the look of his foul mood, it wouldn’t take him long before he would take a swing at Gloria or Tara. Tara didn’t remember much from the time Eric had lived with them, but she knew that he was charged with aggravated battery with a deadly weapon and sentenced for many years in prison.
Exactly the same thing her mother could have been charged with after that night. Gloria never mentioned what happened in Detroit again, but Tara figured that the final straw had been when her father started talking about needing some cash and how both Gloria and Tara could pinch in by working the streets.
“I had nightmares about him for years, you know…” Jenny said out of the blue.
“I’m sorry…”
“Stop saying you’re sorry! You are nothing like your parents, Tara. Your mother was self-centered and had a cold heart but after I saw your father that night, I realized that I had come eye to eye with pure evil. You don’t have to be sorry for them. You are the kindest person I know, sweetheart.”
“I still can’t believe that you actually carried a gun and pointed it at the back of his head.”
“There are things about my past that are better left in the past,” Jenny said with a hint of regret in her voice.
“If you ever need someone to talk to…”
Jenny’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Okay. First we talk about your mother never claiming any of the stuff you left in my apartment and the fact that there had been a fire four towns over in that massage parlor that supposedly nobody knows about. I’ve read in the newspapers that one person died in the fire that night…”
Tara wrapped her arms around herself. “Yes. That’s where my mother worked. It wasn’t just massages, they—”
Jenny rested a hand on top of Tara’s arm. “I figured as much. And did your father find her there?”
“I don’t have any proof of that. But you heard him that night. He said that he wouldn’t rest before he had my mother buried six feet under.”
“I know. I wished I had called the cops that night,” Jenny said.
“I asked you not to because my father held something above my mother’s head that happened back in Detroit. I was trying to protect her—for all the good it did her. Maybe if you called the police that night, non of this would have ever happened.”
“We’ll never know. But what I do know is that we can make changes in our lives today so we can hopefully reap the benefits later. Like giving Owen a chance by trusting him with the truth.”
Tara smiled, “I was wondering when you would get back to Owen and me.”
“I’ve seen my share in my thirty-nine years of walking this earth. I’ve never seen such a rare connection since.”
“I still love him.”
Jenny sighed. “I know. It’s written all over your face—and his, by the way…”
Tara looked up from her feet. “You think? But he hates me. We just got into another fight this morning…”
“That’s his hurt talking. And he has every right to be hurt.”
“I know…”
